I wish that I had a funny story to write. Something embarrassing to tell on myself would be just
great about now. But I just don't have anything to offer.
All I can think of is how thankful I am for the many, many blessings in my life. I can't begin to name them all. I just want to weep over all of them. It makes me want to run to the ends to the earth to share them all.
It's one thing to know something, but it's a completely different story to understand. To witness it. To touch it. To be cut down to your very soul. To stand under it.
I have encountered people recently who have experienced devastation that is unthinkable to me, truly unspeakable. Yet they survive and even desire to thrive in life. One would never imagine the road they have walked by listening to their giggles, but if you look into their eyes, trying to see down to their hearts and souls, the wounds are evident. Raw.
I remember what I knew, the thing I thought I understood...behind every negative deed there is an unmet need, a gaping wound.
Then there's me. Blessed so much. Life has been imperfect, and I myself have been even more so imperfect, but the wonderful has far exceeded the negative.
I just don't get it...
Not at all.